jude-anna
by lucyweasleys
Summary: she takes another sip of that expensive wine of hers and closes her eyes and it's easier this way. -oc/oc, based around a nextgen harry potter rp. for leesh. trigger warning for suicide.
1. jude-anna

**notes: **for leeshy (vanity sinning). i love you. (even if u arent bout getting da hood back 2getha)**  
listen to: **never let me go – florence and the machine

* * *

v.

maria knows. she knows what's going on and what he's doing to her daughter. she knows and she's not sure which is worst: that it's happening or that she can't stop it. that she can't save her daughter from it the way she saved herself all those years ago.

deep down, though, maria knows.

there was nothing to save herself from back then. he loved her, could love her. there was no inner battle with himself. he opened is heart to her and she stomped on it and it all comes right back to her.

every single god damn time.

so she takes another sip of that expensive wine of hers and closes her eyes and it's easier this way.

she can't save jude, so she pretends she doesn't see.

iv.

dimitri doesn't know what to do.

his namesake is destroying his best friend's sister and he doesn't know what to do. he has no pull over the man.

he couldn't tell him to stay and he can't tell him to leave.

all he can do is hold on tight and close his eyes and wait for the impact to come. to pray that when it happens – when it comes, she manages to pull herself out of the wreckage.

she was always about self-preservation. maybe all she needs is to come a little too close to the edge to realize he's destroying her. to realize for seventeen years she didn't need him, and she doesn't need him now.

she's strong and she can survive this, he tells himself. but only if she's willing.

only if she can pull herself out.

iii.

declan finds himself at a loss.

she's his sister, one half of his whole. his baby sister, separated by only a few moments but in the end a few moments can really be a life time.

they started out with only a day apart. but that day turned into more days, which turned into years, and more years, and then there were centuries separating them.

centuries and dimitri casear coyne i.

there's nothing more to say because there's only one thing that matters: she needed him and he couldn't help her.

declan couldn't save her and he'd spend every day of the rest of his life hating himself for that.

ii.

he knows what he's doing.

he knows he's killing her. Knows his hands are around her neck and his knife is at her heart and he's shoving her under in that bathtub, blocking all air, ripping into her skin with his claws, tearing at every ounce of self preservation she's got.

he takes her independence away with the taste of his tongue, takes her need to be free away with the brush of his skin, steals away her ability to run with the feel of his fuck.

he ruins her. wrecks her.

and he knows what he's doing the entire time.

i.

here's the thing: she doesn't want to die, necessarily. she just needs to get away from him. she needs to breathe and she can't do it when he's near but she can't get away from him, because he follows her, finds her.

he always makes it seem like he's one step behind her, always close enough to reach out and just barely brush his finger tips against her skin. but the truth is, he's not one step behind her. He's one step ahead and she always runs right into him, every single time, and it's always her fault.

she can't get away.

until she can.


	2. arms of the ocean

**listen to:** stay - rihanna &/or never let me go - florence + the machine

* * *

every time he leaves she sinks a little deeper.

/

she doesn't count the first time he leaves her.

seventeen and on top of the world - she doesn't need him.

in fact, if anyone needs anyone it's he who needs her.

sex against a wall, his fingers brushing her outer thighs, ripping at her dress, gripping her breasts, his lips on hers as he slid inside of her for the first time.

it's the beginning of the end, because he leaves a small part of himself inside of her; plants the idea of himself deep within her.

and it's in far too deep for her to ever pull it out.

/

the next time he leaves, she's caught off guard. except she can't quite figure out if she's caught off guard because he left or because he stayed for as long as he did.

they're in Italy, his home - his city.

it's a chance meeting and later she'll think fate was working against her, because later she won't be as young, as energetic and one day she'll understand - one taste will never be enough.

they spend thirty-one days together. drugs, sex, booze. a different club, a different name every night. it's their own little game and they can be whoever they want.

apollo sniffs coke in the bathroom, florence takes e and ends up stripping on the bar. and at the end of the night they end up in each others arms.

and then she wakes up one morning and he's gone.

she takes a bath and then packs her things and leaves.

/

greece is next.

she's got a dog and a steady job and her life is good. there's a small hole in her, but it's easy for her to slap a bandage onto it and be okay again.

and then he shows up and fucks her on a beach at sunset and then again on a table at what was suppose to be dinner

and he stays again. the days blur past in a haze of colors and then one day she wakes up and he's gone again and she can't stay here so she leaves too.

/

Venice is next - or maybe it's Vienna or Florence: this is where her memory grows hazy.

Memories of when and where escape her. all she knows is one day he shows up and presses her against the wall and she knows a lot of things, like the familiar taste of his tongue as it trails over hers and the way he cups her cheek, but mostly she knows he's going to leave her - in a day or in a year. That doesn't matter - what matters is that at the end of her story, on the very last page of this book, she ends up alone.

he leaves her sooner than usual. two days.

two days and then he's gone.

/

she leaves the country this time, heads to New York City.

The city that never sleeps.

it's all fast lives and lights that never seem to dim and there's talent on every corner and it makes something deep within Jude yearn for freedom. she doesn't want to be left like this. she's not that girl, was never that girl.

except now she is.

the story is the same - he comes back, pulls her back in with one kiss. they have sex, they go to bed together.

she wakes up alone.

/

he wears her down. makes her tired inside. The type of tired sleeping can't fix.

and he keeps coming back and he keeps leaving and she understands it now.

hes a current she's caught in and at first she tried to swim against it but he just wore her out until she was too tired to fight anymore.

so she stops fighting it.

/

he pulls her under but it's not a sudden thing.

/

she's been drowning their entire relationship and each time he left was her coming up for air and him coming back was him shoving her under.

until she got too attached and it reversed.

/

its been seven years coming.

the last time he leaves her is the time she stops fighting it.

/


	3. circles

**_listen to: _**_never stop - safetysuit_

* * *

_this is my love song to you_

_/_

Dimitri Coyne was six years old the first time he ever danced with Jude Price.

They were in a dance class their parents had signed them up, with a scary teacher who had a mole on her chin that Dimitri couldn't help but stare at every single time he looked at the woman. She carried a yardstick around with her as she walked around the large studio in her bare feet in long, flowly skirts, and Dimitri couldn't help but wonder if she were going to hit one of them with that yardstick if they happened to mess up one of the steps.

They were six year old's, some who had never even danced before (see, Dimitri), so of course there were going to be a lot of mess ups. Dimitri wondered if that was why she carried the yardstick around.

Maybe she liked hitting children with yardsticks and searched for any excuse too. Maybe she was the type of person who hit children with yardsticks without excuses.

Out of fear of being hit with a yardstick for no reason, Dimitri stepped a little closer to Jude, stepping on one of her toes in the process, his clammy fingers tightening around her hand. "You don't think she's going to hit one of us with that thing, do you?"

Jude didn't reply, instead she pulled herself away from him and shoved him to the ground. "You're a horrible dancer." She directed at Dimitri, before turning to their dance teacher who was rushing over, bare feet slapping against the hard wood of the floor.

Dimitri winced and looked away. Some things should never be seen and that teacher's feet were definitely one of those things.

"I want a new partner." Jude demanded, hands on her hips.

"I'm afraid there's no one else. You're stuck with him." The teacher told Jude, a sympathetic grimace on her face as if she knew how horrible of a dancer Dimitri was. Dimitri rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Yeah, Jude! You're stuck with me."

Jude scolded and opened her mouth to argue, but Dimitri was already grabbing one of her hands and twirling her around in circles against her will, laughing as she tried to hit him and ending up falling over.

At the end of the year at their final dance recital, Jude and Dimitri were not only still partners, but the best dancers in that class of six-year-old's.

/

The next time they danced together, they were eight years old. Jude wore a nice, white dress and Dimitri had a pizza-stained tee shirt on, jeans with holes in the knees, and one of his father's expensive ties tangled up around his neck.

"It's our wedding day. We have to dance or it doesn't count."

Jude could barely suppress her eye roll in Dimitri's direction. The only reason she had ever agreed to marry the idiot was because he had challenged her and Jude didn't back down from a challenge, even if it was from Dimitri Coyne II and involved marrying Dimitri Coyne II.

So she had put on a nice dress and went outside to where Declan and Dimitri were standing in front of a crooked row of teddy bears and her dolls sat on different types of chairs in front of a picture taped to a tree of what she had assumed was her and Dimitri kissing, drawn by Dimitri of course. She didn't hesitate to rip it down and tear it into pieces.

"I don't have to dance with anyone." She maintained, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're lucky I even agreed to this dumb wedding, Stupid."

Dimitri scowled. His entire face turned red and he stomped his foot. "Declan!" He bursted out. "Tell her to dance with me!" He whined, crossing his arms over his chest like she had. "It's not a wedding unless there's a first dance!"

Declan sighed from where he sat beside Mr. Bear, eating a cookie. "Jude, just dance with him. It's one dance. It's not going to kill you."

Jude rolled her eyes, but relented. "Fine. But don't think it'll ever happen again," she directed at Dimitri. "Stupid," she added underneath her breath.

Despite her stupid comment, Dimitri's face, once red with anger and frustration, had the biggest, goofiest smile and there was a happiness in his eyes that Jude had an intense urge to squish.

Before she could say anything else, Dimitri was wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He rested his chin on her shoulders, and allowed Jude to lead them. She wrapped her arms around his neck hesitantly, feeling rather awkward. There was a small part of her, however, that felt pleasure out of dancing with him like this.

It was nice, the small part of her said. She would never tell him that though, and the second she felt they were dancing for too long, she shoved him away and stomped into the house, muttering about how this wasn't a real wedding and they weren't really married, with Dimitri trailing along behind her protesting and maintaining that they were going to be together forever.

/

At fourteen years old, Dimitri Coyne wasn't the same innocent Dimitri he once was. He was just as stupid, just as brave, but there was a reckless edge to him that wasn't there before. He could now hold his alcohol and had his fair share of cigarettes, but the most notable change had been his way with the female sex.

Once he had been awkward and horrible with girls, but somehow, after his parents died, he had gained a charm about himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was no longer looking for someone to love, just a quick snog. Maybe it was that he liked to tease girls, to flirt with them and leave them wanting more. Or maybe it was Jude Price.

They went from being friends to very nearly fucking against the wall in his dormitory bathroom, his fingers grazing against the fabric of her panties over her clit, always teasing, never actually doing.

It was the winter and they were at Maria's annual Christmas party. His suit was itchy and uncomfortable and the tie was choking him, but every single feeling of annoyance was gone the second he caught sight of her.

She was gorgeous in the fabric of her green dress and he couldn't help but note the colour of his tie. Red.

Gryffindor and Slytherin. They were once sworn enemies, maybe still could be considered just that.

And yet.

A smile lit up his face, a real, genuine smile. He would have never admitted to it, would never have known where to begin or how to say it, would have used far too many words when only three words were necessary, but Dimitri Coyne had been in love with Jude for a long time.

He quickly made his way towards her, cutting off several guys who were also in the middle of heading towards Jude.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, his Italian accent coming out. He gently reached for her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it, his eyes mischievous and suggestive as they met hers. And then, a few moments later, they were on the floor, slowly swaying together.

One of his hands rested on her hip, fingers gently caressing her along her hip over the fabric of her dress, his other hand holding hers as they moved gracefully about the dance floor, managing to not run into any of the other couples.

"You look beautiful tonight," he told her as he took his hand from her hip so he could spin her around.

"Thank you," Jude replied with a small smile on her lips, her hair flying around her as he spun her, then pulled her back to him, closer than she had been before.

He leaned his lips in closer, grazing them gently against the corner of her mouth before he moved them to her ear. "What do you say we get out of here?" He asked, his voice light as he used one hand to push back some of her hair.

"I'd like that," her reply came, her voice just as soft as his, almost breathless. He was glad he wasn't the only one who felt breathless. Jude had always made him feel that way. She had always had this uncanny ability to steal the air from his lungs and this was the first time he ever thought maybe he could do the same to her.

/

The dishwater was lukewarm on his skin and he winced as some spilled over onto the counter and floor, averting his eyes from the dishes in the sink to glance around at the dishes on the counter. Jude had been gone for two days and the entire flat had gone to hell. It was almost as if Dimitri couldn't exist separate from her.

The radio sitting in the windowsill played the type of music Jude usually listened to, a soft sort of acoustic type. He smiled down at the dirty dishwater for a few moments, letting the music run smoothly over him like water would. Closing his eyes, he could picture Jude dancing around the kitchen to this song, an apron tied around her waist and a glass of wine in hand as she attempted to cook him dinner.

He laughed a little at the imagine.

Glancing up at the clock, he turned back to the dishes. He had ten minutes to clean the kitchen. Maybe inviting the guys over to watch Quidditch hadn't been such a good idea. Dishes were stacked up on his counters miles high, empty beer bottles littered the floor, along with empty bags of various chips.

Declan had offered him some help with cleaning up, but Dimitri had waved him off, convinced he could pick the house up himself. More than anything, he wanted to prove himself to Jude. That he could handle things when she wasn't there too. Glancing around the disarrayed apartment once more, he blew air out. Obviously this much wasn't true.

By the time Jude came through the door, Dimitri had managed to clear the floor of the beer bottles and chip bags and had gotten half of the dishes cleaned. Still, the pile of dirty dishes out-weighed the clean ones and he couldn't help but frown as he watched her come in.

"I was trying to clean the house up before you got home," he murmured into her hair as he embraced her, inhaling her scent. His fingers grazed her hips, pulling her flesh against him in a loving way. "I missed you."

Jude smiled against his chest. "I was gone for two days, Dimitri." She spoke to him in a patient, calm sort of way like you would a child, but Dimitri knew this was her urge for control more than anything. He knew from the way she didn't push herself away, from the way her fingers found the nape of his neck, running through his hair as she wrapped her free arm around his neck so she could be closer to him that she indeed had missed him more than she had been letting on.

That's how it was with Jude. She wouldn't always say it, but he could always read her by her actions. He knew her, knew her better than anyone aside from Declan. That was why he chased so hard after her back in the sixth year. Because no one except Declan knew her the way he did, and more than that he knew how hard she was to be with.

Anyone else would've walked away. Logan _did _walk away from her. Twice. And that was why he belonged with her. Because if there's one thing you don't do to Jude Price it's walk away from her and Dimitri never would, never could.

"Two days is a long time."

"Forever," she teased him, then paused as she realized she recognized the song. Looking at Dimitri, she gave him a soft, knowing smile. "I love you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his gently.

"I love you too," he grinned as she pulled her lips back from his. He held her against him tightly, fingers on her hips. "You know," he murmured into her ear after a few moments, beginning to sway along with the music. "In a month we're going to be married."

"We are," she agreed, a smile on her lips. This smile, it was different than her usual smiles – amused but at the same time distant, cautious – no, this smile was happy more than it was anything and just simply knowing that he was the one that made her smile like that was enough to make him smile happily too.

"In forty-five years," he murmured into her ear, moving them around more so that they were dancing around the kitchen in slow circles, "we'll still be dancing."

There was a double meaning to his words and a reason why they were moving in circles.

Circles were infinite the way he knew they would be.

/

They get married on top of the Eiffel Tower with a birds eye view of the city and there's no gigantic audience but when Declan pronounces them man and wife it feels like the whole world is clapping for them, cheering them on as he presses a kiss to Jude's lips and the world is at their feet and this is it, their forever laid out on a silver platter and it hasn't been easy, it's been hard, really hard and it'll always be hard and they'll always be fighting because that's their relationship: A constant battle.

The civil war of all civil wars.

And Jude still thinks he's an idiot, especially when security comes after them and they're forced to flee and hope they don't get caught because Dimitri made plans for them to go to some fancy Hawiian beach and really jail isn't their idea of a good honeymoon.

But this is the thing: He grabs her and twirls her around and her world falls off balance and all she can see is this blur of colours and shades and silhouettes and this feeling explodes inside of her, and it takes her a long time to realize it but it's happiness. Both metaphorically and literally.

And then they're dancing in some crevice of the Eiffle Tower with a team of security guards searching for them and Dimitri leans in close to Jude and kisses her and maybe there's no music and maybe they'll get caught and maybe it won't work.

But maybe it will.

/

Forty-five years later and they're still dancing.

/

_you still get my heart racing,  
you still get my heart racing  
you still get my hear racing  
_


	4. in another life

kara hadn't been sleeping much.

things recently had been weird. or not even weird. just... heavy. she'd been sleeping with andrew all summer. it wasnt something they'd even yet talked about. recently, every time andrew would bring it up, kara would kiss him just to shut him up.

she didnt want to talk to him about it. talking insinuates you know what you want. kara didn't.

she was laying in bed next to him, staring up at the ceiling. topless, pantless. vulnerable. andrew laid next to her with only boxers on, his sheets twisted around him.

she looked at him for a moment, then looked away.

you've really made a mess of things this time, kara finnigan. what would your mother say.

biting her lip she slowly moved to sit up, sheets falling away to expose her body. her bare feet touched the cold ground and she quickly moved to grab her panties, sliding them on quickly along with her bra and skirt.

she focused her attention wholly on doing these small, simple tasks. if she let her mind wander then she'd probably cry.

it was only as she was buttoning up her uniform shirt that cam announced his conscious presence by turning his bedside lamp on. her shirt wasnt completely on and he could easily see her navel and upwards if he looked. but his eyes were on her face, searching her eyes which were unwilling to meet his.

she moved her hands from the buttons of her top on her lap, wringing around each other nervously. she knew cam knew - or at least had an idea - because though she'd never told him and as far as she knew neither had andrew this was cam and he knew everything. but actually honestly knowing he knew? that was different.

they didn't speak for a long while. cam simply just stared at her and kara just stared at her hands.

and then finally, she stood up and there was a part of her that was sure she was going to leave, but instead she turned and pulled Andrew's bed curtains closed, before she moved towards cams bed.

She crawled in next to him, pushing the covers back so she could slide in between the sheets. her foot brushed his underneath the cover. she pulled the drapes shut.

"march." she answered his unspoken question. "it first happened in march. he was high, i was wasted. it was stupid. and then a month later it happened again, only we were sober."

she wanted to cuddle into him, to bury her face into his chest and close her eyes and feel safe. because he made her feel safe, safer than anyone, even her own father had. but she couldn't. this wasnt fifth year anymore.

he wasnt hers and she wasnt his.

the fact hurt more than she thought it ought to have. because he was her best friend and she was sleeping with his best friend, but the truth was she gave her heart away a long time ago.

to the little boy sitting at the library table in their first year with the big book in front of him and the curly hair. and she stole his heart from him that day in return, ripping it from him before he could even blink.

"i just-" kara blinked, suddenly feeling like she was drowning in emotion. how do you word something like this? "i thought it would be you?" it came out like a question as she looked up at him, still blinking away all emotion she was feeling. she looked lost - like she was confused, still catching up. still trying to understand.

and she was. how could you have feelings for one person, emotional and physical feelings, and yet still be so attached in every way to another person?

the thing was, kara was soft. she was all raw emotions and feelings and cam was her hard outer shell. in the way that she made him a little more human, he protected her.

they were two parts of the same whole, tangled up in each other and romance had nothing to do with it. not on purpose, at least.

it was hard because it was easy to confuse certain feelings for other feelings and as much as she wished she did, she had no idea what she wanted anymore.

she could no longer tell where he ended and she began.

when she felt cam's hand slide into hers she slid a little closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes falling closed. her fingers clinging to his.

she heard a click and the sound of fabric shuffling and guessed he'd turned the lights off and drew the curtains closed.

"cam?"

"yes?"

"i hope in another life, it was you."

she didn't have to explain - he understood.


	5. passions

passions - "play me a song" / "read me some of your poetry"

/

"play me a song, jude."

his voice is a deep caress to the skin of her neck from where his head rests on her shoulder, glancing up at her with large, amber eyes.

they're tangled together in a thin layer of white sheets and not much else. clothing lie abandoned in a line from the foyer stopping near the bed with jude's lacy black thong.

he pouts at her a little, but his fingers brushing against her hip bone ruin any effect he would've had on her. still, she can't say no to that face.

so she untangles herself from the bed and wraps the sheet around herself, making her way to the white grand piano sitting in the corner of the living room.

dimitri trails after, pulling on a pair of shorts. they sit down side by side at the piano and dimitri doesn't tear his eyes from her as her fingers begin smoothly sliding across the keys, a beautiful, haunting melody cutting through the silence like glass through skin.

it knocks all air from his lungs and he sits still watching her play, every second her music is flowing through his ear bending him, distorting him, /changing/ him.

the sheet begins falling off one of her shoulders but she's too deeply invested in her music now for her to realize.

every second he watches, listens, observes, he falls even more in love with her.

and that's when he thinks maybe it isn't simply her music taking his breathe, creating goose bumps, leaving him more and more affected with every moment it goes on.

maybe it's her.

/

"read me some of your poetry."

the bath water envelopes them, rose petals and what little bubble bath there is left floating around them as dimitri sinks a little deeper in the water.

he takes a moment to think, before he decides on a poem. it's one he's written about her - they're always about her: her skin, her hair, personality, his feelings for her; the works.

his fingers graze against her arm as he recites the poem in her ear, lips brushing against the outer shell, taking it in between his teeth with every break between words.

his love for her weaves itself gracefully through the words, honest and true about how he's never met anyone like her before.

he's had tons of girls and even a guy before, but at the end of the day she always wins over every one and every thing.

and then, at the end of his poem, as his fingers glide over her body, rubbing her thighs, caressing her stomach, massaging her breasts, he whispers into her ear something that isn't included in the poem but you could easily tell from reading between the lines.

"I love you."


End file.
